To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
by Aislin30a
Summary: Sulu and Chekov encounter the alien equivalent of BFF and the consequences thereof.
1. Chapter 1

Rating: K+ this chapter

Pairing: eventual Sulu/Chekov, mentions of Kirk/Bones

Notes: Again, Posting this here for the benefit of those who don't frequent the LiveJournal communities.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Part 1

They don't get many nights like this, especially not planet-side. There's music and dancing and food in strange colors that tastes much better than it looks. The natives are friendly, much more trusting and open than Pre-Warp Earth likely would have been to an alien presence in their sky and at their table. Not that there are any tables in the immediate vicinity. There are plenty of benches and cushions scattered around the courtyard, though. Just close enough to the fire pits for their occupants to benefit from the warmth while leaving plenty of room for the dancers.

Sulu is out of breath and just a little dizzy as he falls onto a large cushion under some kind of ornamental tree, a laughing Chekov plopping down next to him. They have a friendly game of push and shove before they grudgingly decide, lips twitching as they exchange teasing glares, that the seat is big enough for the both of them. Sulu's never been much of a dancer, always felt a little awkward going through the steps. Which is just plain weird coming from an avid fencer. But he had found it hard to refuse the pull on his sleeve, inviting him out into the glow of the fire.

Especially when the hand pulling him had belonged to a grinning Russian genius trembling with excitement over the whirling colors and rising music. The other dancers had made room for them with easy smiles, made welcoming gestures, hands brushing along their arms, over their hair, coxing them, encouraging them. There were no steps to follow, they spun and twirled and turned their own path amid the smiling faces and colored cloth flowing like water around its wearers. Sulu had felt like a child again holding tight to Chekov's hands, feeling the same simple elation he'd shared with his sisters spinning in their apartment in San Francisco trying to be the last one standing, falling to the floor to watch the room turn around them. He'd grinned and laughed and hadn't been embarrassed at all when they tripped all over each other trying to mimic the fancier spins of the other dancers.

He's still laughing now, silently in his mind, watching Chekov watching the dancers, mimicking their movements with his hands, with his wrists. He's never been able to sit still. Sulu tilts his head back, staring up through the thin, spindly branches of the tree at the sky. He watches a star move behind one wispy cloud and then back out into the open. He briefly entertains the thought that it's the Enterprise spinning slow and graceful with a purple-blue planet as her partner. He knows it's not. The Enterprise is in a parking orbit somewhere above them and the moving star is very likely one of the Tetrite's own weather satellites. But he likes the imagery.

He's about to turn his attention back to the courtyard when the planet's moon, slightly pink in color, comes out from behind a cloudy blanket. He watches, intrigued, as the spear like buds of the tree shiver and then gasps outright when they fall open into pearly crystalline starbursts blushing peach in the moonlight. He feels Chekov shift beside him, hears his soft murmur of appreciation at the sight of the night blooms. Sulu reaches up, cupping one flower in his hand to angle it towards them. The stem detaches from the branch easily, though he hadn't meant it to. Bringing it down to face level he examines it closely, voicing his discoveries aloud because they're just that fascinating. An inner and an outer Corolla, one a multiple of three the other a multiple of five, the petals soft and velvety. Neither a monocot or a dicot, or maybe it was both. No stamen, but two slender pistils in a spiraling helix. Gynoecium only. A female flower, a _female tree_.

He's ready to jump up and search, eager to see the male counterpart when he hears an amused little hum coming from his friend. He glances over and Chekov is giving him that look he only wears when he's thinking '_My swashbuckling, stoic, ass-kicking pilot is secretly a total _nerd_ and that will never stop being funny_'. Sulu mock-glares, spinning the flower between his fingers before snapping his hand up to tuck the flower into the Russian's curls. He makes an indignant noise, nose wrinkling and eyes crossing as he glares at the offending decoration placed in his hair like he was some lovestruck country girl. And Sulu knows his navigator would never forgive him if he knew just how adorable Sulu thinks he looks like that.

Later, when Sulu is giving his report of the 'incident' on the planet's surface, he will only be able to describe the startling and shrill exclamation that broke that playful moment as "SQUEE".

***

"Did you, at any time, feel lightheaded?"

"No."

"Any visual or auditory hallucinations?"

"No."

"Were there any glowing orbs or mist?"

"No."

"Did they have you ingest _anything_?"

"Yeah, that sweat scented tea they had at the dinner. It wasn't any different."

"You can't be sure of that. You! Yes, yes you. I want a sample of whatever you gave these two. Don't give me that look, I know you can understand me!"

"Bones-"

"Were there any candles or incense burning, or dishes of scented oil or similar."

"Um, no."

"Was there anyone claiming to be a god or deity of some sort?"

"No."

"Was there any mention of sacred, holy, mystical or otherwise ethereal soil, artifacts or persons?"

"No..."

"Any nubile, vestal virgins?"

"What? No."

"Really, Bones-"

"Did you touch or were you made to touch any ritual objects?"

"No."

"Were you touched in an invasive manner, sexually or otherwise?"

"No!"

"Bones! Jesus, would you _stop_ already?" Kirk yells, then turns to make soothing gestures at the group of startled Tetrite officials standing in an adjoining colonnade. After a moment they focus their attention back amongst themselves, giving the Starfleet officers the privacy McCoy had requested for their conversation. Turning back again, he gives the doctor an exasperated look. "Seriously, you're freaking out a bit."

"Excuse me, _Captain_," Dr. McCoy bites out in a low growl while he continues to wave his tricorder over Sulu's body. Scowling at the view screen he resets the calibrations and starts scanning Chekov instead. "But I need to be thorough. This freaky, alien ritual shit usually happens to you, so forgive me if I'm a little snappy while I adjust."

"Doctor, we're fine." Sulu says, receiving a sharp look from McCoy. "They didn't do anything to us. We touched hands, Chekov and I, not the Tetrites. We shared a bowl of tea, there was some chanting. Nothing weird happened."

"What kind of chanting?"

"Oh my God, _Bones_." The captain groans sliding a hand over his eyes. "Sticks and stones, man."

Whatever argument the doctor was about to present to the contrary was interrupted by the appearance of Lieutenant Uhura striding into the room holding a lacquered bottle and looking mildly irritated. She gives the Tetrite officials a short bow, waits for it to be returned than crosses the distance between the door and their group with a quick stride. She hands the bottle to Dr. McCoy with an aggravated sigh.

"One of the runners was waiting out in the hall with that. He seemed a tad nervous about bringing it in. I can't _imagine_ why."

"There, you've got your alien tea, their scans check out okay- and don't give me that look Bones, you'd be throwing fits if there was anything wrong with them- can we move on?" Kirk asks. McCoy rolls his eyes and the captain turns back to Uhura. "Lieutenant, what did the Grand Poobah say about this whole incident? I'm hearing things about flowers, did we trample someone's garden or something?"

"The Tetrite Master of Ceremony regrets any misunderstanding or undue stress his subordinates' actions may have caused," Uhura says with a bit of irritation over correcting the captain's accidental-on-purpose botching of the alien's title but quickly slips into the rhythm and tone she adopts when trying to explain an important concept that doesn't translate well across languages. "He wants to make it clear that their actions were undertaken in good faith and that it never occurred to them that we might be troubled by those actions."

"Understood."

"They seemed to think Sulu and Chekov would be particularly open to exchanges of that type because of... previous interactions? He didn't really go into detail about that." She pauss and looks in their direction, arching an eyebrow in question.

"We were dancing." Chekov supplies and Sulu feels himself blush when Kirk snickers. "There was lots of spinning."

"Oh! Well, that actually makes sense then." Uhura explains when they all turn to her in confusion. "The spinning, it correlates to the significance of the flower. That's what seems to have triggered the whole thing, the flower Chekov had in his hair."

"Wait. You were putting flowers in your hair? Seriously?"

"It was Sulu."

"Traitor."

"Gentlemen, please take this seriously. The flower represents companionship to the Tetrites, because of the way the pistils, the two things in the center, curve around each other." Uhura continues, twisting her index fingers to mimic the flower. "I think the dance may mimic the flower and hold the same significance. A kind of deep connection, a compatibility between two people. There are very intense undercurrents in the symbolism but in a positive way. It's difficult to explain."

"Keptin, my mother would not be pleased with me if I got married by accident." Sulu can't help but chuckle at the earnestly worried look on the navigator's face.

"Sorry, Ensign. That's just one of the risks you take as a Starfleet officer. Along with spontaneous cloning and alien induced pregnancies. Didn't you read the fine print?" That gets a small smile out of Chekov and an amused snort from the doctor.

"It wasn't a marriage ceremony, the Master of Ceremony was very particular about that." Uhura assures them. She gestures with her hand as she tries to find the right words to explain. "He said couples who marry later sometimes do this ritual too but that it doesn't have anything to do with that in and of itself. It's a show of dedication between two people but doesn't seem to have any legal consequence. Like wearing BFF rings or carving your initials onto a tree."

"BFF?" Chekov asks.

"Best friends forever." Sulu supplies without thinking. He shrugs defensively at Kirk's second snicker of the night. Captains really shouldn't snicker. "What? My sisters had tons of those things."

"The point is," Uhura cuts in before Kirk can say something inappropriate. "The whole thing was done for fun because they thought Sulu and Chekov would enjoy the exchange. They didn't expect us to freak out when we saw them getting dragged off."

"Right. Okay, is there anything else you want to brow beat the Tetrites out of, Bones?" Kirk asks turning to his CMO. McCoy gives him an exasperated look but replies that there wasn't anything else he needed. Kirk nods and flips open his communicator. "Spock, I'm having McCoy, Sulu and Chekov beam up now. Uhura, myself and the rest of the away-team are going to stick around and try to smooth things over with the local Big-Wigs. We'll beam up later."

"_Understood, Captain_."

"Come on, Lieutenant. Lets make sure we haven't scarred the Tetrites for life." Kirk says, heading in the direction of the officials who have been waiting patiently for their private discussion to be over. Uhura follows close behind.

"Transporter One, three to beam up." Dr. McCoy orders into his own communicator with a sour twist of his mouth. "God, I hate these-"

"- things." He finishes after they've re-materialized on the transport pad. Sulu shares an amused smile with Chekov behind the doctor's back. The CMO's dislike for the transporters is well known among the primary bridge crew.

"Well now, Doctor. Did ya bring me a little something from the surface?" Scotty smiles good naturedly from behind the controls.

"No such luck, Mr. Scott." McCoy grumbles, stepping down and towards the doors. "This stuff is considered a bio-hazard until it's been analyzed. It's not alcoholic anyway. You two, with me to Sick-Bay please."

"Well, good riddance to it then." Scotty calls to their backs as the door slid shut. They follow McCoy down the halls to Primary Sick-Bay. They don't see a single face along to way, not surprising as there generally aren't many people walking the halls during Gamma shift. Though when they enter Sick-Bay there are a fair few number of nurses ready to carry out any instructions McCoy might throw out.

"Nothing to add to the Long List of Tomfoolery tonight ladies and gentlemen, not yet anyway." The CMO calls out with a pointed glance back at the helmsmen. "Nurse Jenkins, take blood samples from Tweedledum and Tweedledee while I check in with M'Benga, will you?"

McCoy waits just long enough to see the nod of a red-headed nurse with big eyes before ducking into an office on the left. Nurse Jenkins gives them both a smile that is somehow sympathetic and amused at the same time while leading them to a bio-bed.

"So what happened with you two, then?" She asks, preparing two hypodermics.

"There was a misunderstanding over a flower." Sulu provides and winces as his blood is drawn. Jenkins arches a thin eyebrow, lips twitching, but doesn't enquirer further. Chekov watches with interest as his own blood is extracted into a second vial, the sight of which makes Sulu a little queasy.

"Thank you, Jenkins." McCoy has returned from whatever business he had with M'Benga and takes the vials from the nurse. She nods to the doctor and then to the two helmsmen and heads back to her station. They wait patiently to be dismissed while McCoy examines the samples.

"Right, I'm going to run this by the guys in Chemics," Dr. McCoy growls, gesturing with the bottle of Tetrite tea in one hand and their blood samples in the other. He fixes Sulu and Chekov with one of his more intimidating glares, as though he can bore his instructions straight onto their brains with his eyes. Sulu is reasonably convinced the Doctor thinks a gold tunic is some kind of Starfleet indicator for reckless stupidity instead of a color reserved for command. "You two come _straight_ to Sick-Bay if you experience vomiting, dizzy spells, black outs, discoloration, mood swings, loss of appetite, lapses in memory, flash-backs, psychic abilities, alterations in age, or a sudden change of gender."

"But not a gradual change of gender?"

"_Out_."

Sulu spends a restless night in his quarters. He uses half of his remaining water allowance for the week taking a real shower that does nothing to calm his mind. He gets up an hour after he first lies down to stretch. The exercise is a useless effort without the meditative state that seems to stay just out of reach. He's watered his plants twice, reviewed the next mission three times and answered every message on his PADD when 0700 hours comes around. By the time he finishes breakfast in the mess he's managed to convince himself that the sleepless night had nothing to do with the feel of soft hands pressed against his or the glow of firelight in blue-gray eyes.

***

End Part 1


	2. Chapter 2

Rating: T for this chapter

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Part 2

–Day One –

*

Chekov is running.

What he should really be doing is helping sort through the new star field readouts in Stellar-Cartography.

People tend to think of the Astrologation department and it's three sub-sectors as removed from the activity of the rest of the ship. As a quiet place full of quiet academics waltzing their way through equations and graphs, whose idea of heart pounding excitement is a round robin thought experiment expounding on the Theory of Relativity as it relates to Warp Theory and the possibilities of the interactions between the two. In reality Astrologation is noisy and always busy, always behind. The idea of a System Map is highly misleading. The notion that it's all drawn out, nice and neat, and doesn't change except for what's added along the edges as Star Ships venture further out couldn't be farther from the truth. System Maps are merely visual representations of data, mass and velocity, linked to equations, all alive and interacting and changing. There's always something new because you're not looking out over a valley or an ocean but over _light years_, hundreds of thousands of light years. So Stellar-Cartography is constantly adjusting their models for the location, velocity and physical state of stars and planets as their view of them skips from the long past, to the near past, to the present. It's beautiful and exhilarating and terrifying because if you miss _anything_, a new sun or a dying sun or a planet, if your model is off by even half a percent, you could fall out of warp into the center of a Class B sun where you thought there was just empty space.

It's important and Chekov is good at it but he can't sit still. It's his day off and he can spend it running around the recreation deck if he wants to.

He half hears other crew members shouting ahead to warn those further down the hall that he's coming at them fast. He doesn't think about it, barely even sees the floor and the walls as he sprints along them. He's trying to exhaust himself. He didn't sleep at all last night but that was okay because today is his day off. It won't be okay tonight, if the same thing happens, he has to man the helm tomorrow. He's tired but at the same time he's restless.

He's trying to exhaust himself. He's trying not to think about laughing eyes and callused hands holding his as the world spins around them.

Chekov keeps running.

*

– Day Two –

*

Sulu is watching 20th century game shows because he is just _that_ desperate.

He's gone two nights without sleep now and nothing he's tried has made the least bit of difference. He's run through his kata, various fencing maneuvers, tried drinking tea and warm milk, stayed in a handstand until his vision got spotty and has even tried counting sheep. _Sheep_. He's never even seen them in real life.

So now he's watching _Wheel of Fortune_ and _Jeopardy_ on his day off. When he'd normally be doing something interesting like cataloging the saplings the Tetrites had given them as an apology, or sparring with Anders from Security, or asking Chekov if his day at the helm without Sulu has been just as agonizingly boring as Sulu's day at the helm without Chekov was and hoping to God he passes out soon because if he's rambling this much after two nights without sleep he's likely to fly them straight into a black hole tomorrow if he doesn't sleep tonight.

Alex Trebek reveals 'Literature' for 600 as "The author of _Eugene Onegin_ and father of modern Russian literature".

"Twentieth century as modern Lit. huh? Hey, I know this one! Who is Alexander Pushkin, right?" Sulu makes a little fist pump when he's revealed to be correct, thinks how pleased Chekov would be to hear that Sulu has remembered something about the history of the nation his friend is so proud of, realizes what he's just done and buries his head in his hands. "God, I'm so screwed."

*

Jim is almost exactly where he wants to be.

It's been a few days, what with one thing or another. Bones has been busy with inventory and requisition forms and then there was the Tetrite incident and the _report_ on the Tetrite incident and, really, could Star Fleet paperwork be any more repetitive? So, it's been a few days and Jim has needs. In cases where he's been spending his nights fantasizing instead of doing he tends to come out with one insistent, usually quite specific, Need. This time, his Need involves a desk, a swivel chair and Bones calling him Nurse Kirk. Jim is almost exactly where he wants to be.

The trick is convincing Bones that he wants Jim where _Jim_ wants Jim.

It shouldn't be too hard as they're already half stumbling in that general direction. Bones has his hands under Jim's shirt, stroking his skin, while Jim buries his hands in the doctor's hair, pulling a bit to adjust their angle so he can kiss deeper, to adjust their course. And there, the backs of Bones' knees hit the chair and he's falling back into it. Jim slides more gracefully into his lap and starts fumbling to get his friend's belt open. Bones breaks the kiss.

"Jim, we're not having sex in the damn chair."

"Sure we are. Chair sex is hot." Bones hasn't stopped stroking Jim's sides so he can't be that adverse to the idea. All Jim really needs to do here is lead Bones through the familiar territory of contrary, half-assed arguments so Bones can maintain that facade of responsibility and pretend he's not just as interested in seeing how far they can make the chair slide across the floor.

"It has wheels, Jim. That's not hot, it's dangerous. I've got a perfectly good bed we can use."

"Which is why we've got this handy desk here for me to hold on to." That's a no on the chair slide then. Still, Bones' hands are rubbing small circles on Jim's back and he's not moving to stand up, so the night isn't a total bust yet.

"I'm too old for this shit. I swear, I just about threw my back out when we had sex against the wall last week." Bones grumbles, but it's muffled by the skin of Jim's neck where he's leaving little bites and wet kisses.

"You're thirty-two, you did not and you know it, and I'll be doing all the work this time. Honestly, this totally turns you on. Admit it." Bones doesn't answer, which is just fine because Jim doesn't need him to at this point. He's finally gotten the stupid belt off but Jim leaves Bones' pants buttoned for the moment. He likes to make Bones ask for it after he's put up a fight. Instead he brings his hands to his own hem line and pulls his yellow jersey and black undershirt over his head. It's an open invitation for Bones to move his hands up over Jim's abs and chest. He digs his fingers into blue jersey as Bones slides one hand along his ribs, rubbing a thumb over a stiff nipple with the other.

"Yeah, just there. Mmmm, love your hands Dr. McCoy."

"Jim?" Bones pauses, his mouth barely an inch from Jim's collar bone, breath hot on his skin.

"Nurse Kirk, please." There's a pause, then quite firmly Bones says:

"Hell. No."

"Oh, come on! I've had a long week. The yeomen have been on my ass about the rotation roster and the helm's been radiating weird ass tension for the past two days. Can we please have some fun with this?" Jim realizes he's said something disastrous for libido when Bones pulls back and rests his arms on Jim's thighs, his hands hanging off to either side.

"The helm. As in, Sulu and Chekov." It's not a question.

"You know I've got more helmsmen than just those two, right?"

"_Jim_."

"No! _Bones_!They've got post plant-side jet lag. They're embarrassed cause they got caught acting like teenage girls. They're sexually repressed and need to jump each other already. Just like _you_ need to jump _me_."

"You know, for the amount of times _you've_ been fucked over by alien voodoo, you don't take it at all as seriously as you should. Those two are going to show up in my Sick-bay any day now and when I say 'I told you so' you don't get to whine about it."

"I don't whine and if I do it's because you're paranoid. If those two end up in Sick-bay because of '_alien voodoo_' I'll never bug you about blowing me on the bridge during Delta shift again. Sex now?" Bones gives him a long look then relents.

"Fine, but I'm not calling you Nurse."

"How about Cadet?" Jim asks, takes another swing at it when the response is a raised eyebrow. "Ensign?"

"When did you develop an authority kink?"

"When you threatened to black-list me for away missions if I didn't stop avoiding my next round of immunizations."

"I can't do a God-damned thing without your mind heading south, can I?"

"You love it."

*

– Day Three –

*

Chekov is late.

He'd glanced up at the chronometer to find he was supposed to be at the helm ten minutes ago and dashed out his door, not even bothering to replicate a power bar. He could almost be happy about it if he could convince himself he'd slept in but he knows he'd merely lost time while staring at the same place on his wall trying to bore himself into blacking out. If his brain wasn't actively engaged, does that still count as sleep? He doesn't think so.

Chekov rounds the corner to see the turbolift doors just starting to slide closed. He picks up his pace and calls out. "Ожидание! Пожалуйста, я последний! Ai! The doors!"

A hand whips out to hold them, followed by a head. Sulu smiles tiredly at him as he slides in. The pilot removes his hand from the entry and the doors close with a hiss. "Hey, sleep in?"

"I wish." It's about all the reply he can manage at this point. Sulu hums his sympathies from his spot against the doors. Chekov thinks that looks infinitely better than standing on his own so he leans back as well. And because Hikaru looks so warm when he smiles like that, and because he's loosing his inhibitions and common sense as well as his ability to speak Standard, Chekov lets his body slide so he can rest his head on his friend's shoulder.

*

McCoy is waiting for the turbolift to come back up from the residence decks.

He's left Chapel in charge of Sick-bay so he can head up to the Bridge to make a few quick observations. It's not that he doesn't trust Jim to make accurate judgments on his crew's health, as far as their capacity to perform their duties goes. It's just that Command's idea of "_fit for duty, for a few more hours anyway_" tends to match up perfectly with Medical's idea of "_should have been in Sick-bay hours ago, you morons_".

To be fair, Jim is usually pretty good about that sort of thing when it comes to anyone besides himself. But Jim wasn't really in any position to judge the situation objectively last night when he'd brought it to McCoy's attention. And considering their... activities, it's not at all surprising that McCoy forgot to bring it up later that evening for a more articulate description of the situation.

So now he's headed up to the bridge for a first hand look at any unusual behavior Sulu and Chekov might be exhibiting. If it ends up looking like it really is just personal matters he'll leave well enough alone and deal with any teasing Jim cares to make about "southern mother hens" at lunch. And if not, he'll be there to drag their asses down to Sick-bay.

He's watching the tracker on the wall, the turbolift is only a few floors away, when his comm goes off.

"_Chapel to Doctor McCoy._"

"Here. What do you need?"

"_Engineering has isolated Grav-Mag Beta proxy and will be starting their experiment in ten._"

"Let's hope life doesn't get too interesting today." The turbolift is one deck below. McCoy takes a step back in case anyone on board needs to get off on his deck.

"_If wishes were fishes Sick-bay would be swimming right about now. Troy and Dre'getk are already headed-_"

This is where McCoy stops paying attention.

It's not because Chapel is telling him things he already knows, or because he's taking a moment to run through an internal list of training stats for the two trauma nurses who've been assigned as Sick-bay's first line of defense against the inevitable chaos that follows in the wake of Scotty's most insanely brilliant ideas. He's stopped paying attention so he can drop to his knees to check for signs of breathing and a pulse from the two helmsmen who've just slumped over backwards, unconscious, as the turbolift doors slid open.

"_Doctor? Are you there?_"

McCoy snatches his comm up from the floor where he dropped it.

"I need two stretchers at lift Tau 3, patients unconscious with regular breathing and heart rate."

"_On their way._"

*

End Part 2


	3. Chapter 3

Rating: PG-13 for language this chapter

Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own any part of Star Trek.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Part 3

It takes a few minutes for Sulu to realize he's awake. He has a moment of relief after his brain works through the logic of: _I'm awake now, therefor I wasn't awake before, which means I must have been asleep, thank God, no more_ The Price is Right _ever again, __**EVER**_. Then it occurs to him that the last thing he remembers thinking is whether he should be excited or gut-wrenchingly nervous that Chekov is slowly leaning towards him and coming to the conclusion that he's too tired to be either. He opens his eyes.

"Why is the ceiling moving?"

"Because you're on a stretcher, _Lieutenant_." Dr. McCoy manages to make Sulu's rank sound less like "lieutenant" and more like "dumb ass" than should really be possible. He's walking alongside of Sulu taking a reading with his tricorder and, apparently, not liking what he sees. "When, exactly, were you planning on coming down to Sick-bay to tell me that you haven't slept in, what? Two days? Three?"

"If I didn't sleep tonight?" Sulu ventures. Dr. McCoy gives him a scathing look. "I didn't think it was that much of a problem. And it wasn't on your list."

"From now on _everything_ is on the God-damned list. You do realize sleep deprivation is a Federation recognized form of torture, right? You're in the Command division, aren't they supposed to teach you this shit?"

"It slipped my mind." Which is a blatant lie. He remembers quite well that particular lecture from the academy. The instructor had seemed to take a weird sort of pleasure in describing the many ways a captured Starfleet officer might be "persuaded" to divulge classified information. He knows how serious sleep deprivation is. But the prospect of explaining that every time he tried to sleep his mind was flooded with thoughts of his best friend was enough to make him put off a trip down to Sick-bay until it was absolutely necessary. His mind snaps back into focus at the thought of the young navigator. "Where's Pavel?"

"Up ahead." McCoy replies, shooting him an odd glance. "He's awake but most of what's coming out of his mouth is in Russian. Not a lot of help. He'll be in Sick-bay by now."

"What do you mean he's in Sickbay? What happened?" His initial embarrassment at the thought of _fainting_ in front of his friend is replaced with concern.

"You both passed out in the turbolift. Seems like the whiz-kid is just as moronic in this respect as you are." Sulu doesn't have enough energy to hold that statement against the doctor.

"You know, I can walk-" Sulu says, as they approach the doors.

"Not gonna happen." And that's the end of the discussion.

They enter Sick-bay and head for a ring of Bio-beds on the left. His stretcher is maneuvered alongside of one. The doctor has gone over to the head of Chekov's bed to examine the display screen so Sulu takes the opportunity to dart up and get onto the bed himself while the nurses lock the stretcher into a stationary hover. The first nurse, Schaltz he remembers, roles her eyes and activates the Bio-bed's monitoring system while the second hurries away with the stretcher.

"Right, we're going to monitor your neural readings for the next hour." McCoy says, typing a few commands into the Bio-bed display. "I'm going to ask a few questions, which you will answer completely to the best of your knowledge, and then both of you will attempt to sleep naturally."

"Yeah, okay." Sulu says because he figures cooperating now will probably make things easier. He's seen the uncooperative method first hand via one James T. Kirk and it never seems to work out.

"Chekov, I'm gonna talk to Sulu first so you've got some time to clear your head." The Ensign nods and closes his eyes. His cheeks are tinged a little red with embarrassment, Sulu notices.

"Okay, first of all. When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?"

"Three days ago." He can _feel_ the glare McCoy is directing at him.

"Lovely. Have you been able to sleep at all since then?"

"Nope. I've zoned out a couple of times. But, um, besides the turbolift I haven't slept at all."

"Any black out periods, where-"

"_Dre'getk to Sick-bay!_"

"Here!" McCoy says after Nurse Schaltz activates the nearest wall comm.

"_On our way with three patients. Two with dislocations and one- well, we think most of the tendons have popped loose in his right arm."_

"Acknowledged. Chapel! Thompson! With me in surgery. Ahkmar and Richards help get the other two fixed up." McCoy turns to Sulu as the Sick-bay jumps into action. "We'll finish this later. Try to sleep. Schaltz, you have the floor."

"Yes, sir."

Over the next few minutes Sulu watches as the medical staff prep for their incoming patients. There's a kind of organized chaos that makes Sick-bay seem more like a bee hive or an ant's nest than a group of individual, highly trained human beings. They speak only a few words at a time, each focused on their own tasks, weaving in and around each other hardly paying attention to what's going on around them but always managing to move exactly where they need to without inconveniencing anyone else.

When the doors slide open Sulu isn't really surprised to see two trauma nurses leading Scotty and two of his engineers inside. The two red shirts have one arm a piece bound against their chests and are led off to the circle of Bio-beds on the right. The Chief Engineer, looking a little tipsy from pain killers with his own arm immobilized, is led off to surgery. Sulu can hear Scotty and McCoy exchange words before the operating room is sealed. Something about gravity, temporal distortion and cockamamie schemes tying up the Sick-bay. McCoy sounds exasperated while Scotty sounds triumphant.

After that things settle down. He can hear the nurses talking the two engineers through the process of getting their shoulders popped back into place and he doesn't envy them one bit. Sulu chances a glance towards his friend. Chekov still has his eyes closed, brow furrowed, and is breathing deeply as though he thinks if he concentrates hard enough he can will himself to sleep. Sulu smiles and suppresses a laugh.

He turns his gaze to the ceiling and wonders whether either of them will manage it. Sulu figures they've each gotten to the point of passing out from sheer exhaustion considering what had happened in the turbo lift but now he can't seem to keep his eyes closed. He tries and then his mind drifts to thoughts of what Chekov would sound like if he really was asleep instead of just attempting to be. How loud would he breathe? Would he snore or mumble to himself as he dreamed? What would it have felt like to have his head resting on Sulu's shoulder?

And now he's staring at the ceiling again, eyes wide open. He blinks once. Then again. He decides there really aren't little blue insect people crawling across the pristine white panels because when he really thinks about it he's not actually seeing them. Sulu thinks that if he's dreaming while he's still awake he should probably just put his dignity aside and beg a nurse for a sedative.

Sulu's just about convinced himself that Nurse Schaltz will disregard McCoy's instruction that they try to sleep naturally if he can get Chekov to make puppy eyes at her when he hears a whimper coming from Chekov's Bio-bed. When he looks over his friend's eyes are still squeezed shut and he's still breathing deeply, but it's the shorter, more intense breathing of someone in pain.

"Chekov?" Sulu asks, watching as his friend shifts awkwardly but doesn't seem to have heard.

"Pavel?" He says, a little softer but still loud enough to carry. That gets his friend's attention. Pavel turns his head and opens his eyes just wide enough that Hikaru can see blue through his lashes. They're damp, he realizes and watches a tear spill over onto pale skin.

He's up in an instant, standing beside Pavel's bed before the navigator even finishes wiping the offending moisture from his cheek with a frustrated curse.

"What's wrong, Pavel? Are you okay?" Hikaru asks, putting a hand down on his friend's Bio-bed to steady himself.

"Mmm. Hurts."

"What does? I'll get a nurse-"

"Nyet. Ai..." Pavel mutters something under his breath, rolling his eyes up as he tries to remember the Standard words he wants to use. "Sore, just sore."

"Yeah, okay." And he does understand. Hikaru has experienced the sort of dull ache you can get after too many nights spent awake instead of sleeping. He'd get that way studying into the early hours of the morning during finals week back at the academy. Before he got his act together and started actually studying instead of cramming. "Hey, I was just going to go ask Nurse Schultz if she could see it in that shriveled-up-sorry-excuse-for-a-heart of hers to knock us out with the good stuff. Think you could use your Russian Jail bait powers of awesome for the good of the team?"

Hikaru chuckles when Pavel wrinkles his nose in fake disgust. He can see that Pavel's trying not to smile and not really succeeding. Hikaru reaches out to ruffle his friend's sandy curls, simply because he knows Pavel can't stand it when people do that.

When he opens his eyes he's on the floor, staring up at the underside of what is very likely Pavel's Bio-bed. His head and hip hurt a bit but other than that he seems to be fine.

"Hikaru?" Pavel's muffled voices calls from somewhere above him.

"'M okay." Is Hikaru's not so intelligent reply. He reaches up to grab onto the side of the bed and heaves himself up. Pavel is staring at him with a dazed expression as though he's really not sure what just happened. Hikaru isn't sure either but he thinks now is probably a good time to lie down. He looks at his own Bio-bed, all of three feet away, and decides that's really not going to happen.

"Fucking screw it. Move over, okay?" He asks, and Pavel does. There's room enough for both of them with Pavel laying on his side so Hikaru sits down on the mattress and lays back. The last thing he sees is Pavel moving his hand to rest on his shoulder.

***

Bethany Mapel is feeling a little out of place. Which is just silly, she knows, because Sick-bay isn't any different during Alpha shift. Not like the rest of the ship, which is brighter during the "daylight" hours than during the later shifts, because the Medical staff still needs to see what they're doing even if it is the Witching Hour. So there's no reason to feel like she's in unfamiliar territory even if there are more people about.

She's keeping herself busy, secretly glad she wasn't called into surgery when the Engineers came in because she can't predict the CMO's needs nearly so well as she can Dr. Landers' or even Dr. M'Banga's. She's running through a list of scheduled appointments when she hears a ping from the monitoring station next to her. She gives it a quick once over, Bio-bed 7 has registered the absence of it's occupant. Nurse Mapel glances up and can just see one of the two command officers who, from his general position and downward focus, must be standing by the bed of the second officer. He looks tired but doesn't appear to be wobbly on his feet so she types in a confirmation of the Bio-bed's status and gets back to the scheduling. Someone has apparently booked the CMOto give the Captain his physical _twice_ and that's just sloppy book keeping.

About a minute later a double ping sounds from the monitoring station. That's more disquieting than the single anomaly ping so Nurse Mapel abandons her spreadsheet to examine the read out from... Bio-bed 8 this time. The neural graph is highly irregular though not so unnatural as to cause a general alarm. She collects her tricorder from her station and goes to investigate.

What she finds is rather embarrassing.

It's not that she hasn't had to deal with crew members crawling into a patient's Bio-bed in the small hours of the morning, because that's not so rare an occurrence as to be at all surprising. It's more that these aren't the small hours of the morning and there are two patients in one bed, neither of whom has had a proper diagnostic done. Which means the neural readings from the Bio-beds will need to be analyzed and they won't be of any use at all if there's two neuro-patterns being recorded on top of each other. Which means Nurse Mapel can't walk away to sigh dreamily at her station or giggle and gossip about it with Nurse Owen because _he's_ still working Delta this week. Nurse Mapel will, at some point, need to-

"So. Were you going to take care of this, or should I?" Nurse Mapel lets out a strangled squeak and juggles her tricorder back into her grasp, pressed firmly against her considerable bust. She turns and looks down.

"Nurse Schaltz!" The Third Lieutenant of the Nursing staff is petite and almost fragile in appearance, like a porcelain doll. Her stature is misleading in the most unfair of ways as the woman is stern with a tongue like a lash. At the moment Nurse Schaltz has her steely eyes focused on the two helmsmen but still manages to inflict the considerable weight of her authority on Nurse Mapel.

"I-"

"Well, come on. Let's get these two moved." Nurse Schaltz says, uncrossing her arms and walking to one side of the bed. "McCoy will snark at us in the most obnoxious manner if we don't have proper neural read-outs by the time he's done in surgery."

Nurse Mapel hesitates for a moment, clicks her mouth shut, then sets her tricorder down at the foot of the bed and makes her way to the opposite side. The young ensign (Chekov she recalls hearing, Chekov and Sulu) looks peaceful curled on his side, arms draped loosely around the other man's shoulder and bicep. He really does need to sleep if the circles under his eyes are any indication but Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Sulu really do need to be properly situated to get the best readings. Still, she feels bad about it when she rests her hands on his shoulder and side and starts rocking him gently.

"Ensign Chekov, this is Nurse Mapel. I need you to wake up now. Just for a bit." She says softly bending over a few inches from his ear, watching for any signs of wakefulness. Her effort doesn't seem to have any effect so she starts rocking him with a little more force. There's still no reaction, not even a flicker of the eyes. She brings one hand up and taps lightly against his cheek. When that doesn't work she pinches it, feeling vaguely unprofessional. She watches a little longer for a response then decides to ask for some input.

"Nurse Schaltz, he doesn't seem to be- _Nurse Schaltz_?" The shorter woman has both of Sulu's cheeks gripped firmly between thumbs and forefingers and is pulling at them in short, sharp jerks. She arches an eyebrow at Nurse Mapel's flabbergasted expression and switches to flicking the man's nose.

"Nurse Schaltz, is that really, um, professional?" Nurse Mapel asks in a small voice. Her superior ignores her, takes a step back and leans down so her face is just to the side of the patient's head.

"Lieutenant Sulu, the Botany lab is _on fire_." She states in a firm, clear voice then pulls back sharply, as though she expects the man to bolt up at that instant. Her expression changes from confidently expectant to puzzled. "Huh."

Nurse Schaltz tilts her head to one side, then to the other and seems to contemplate her options. Nurse Mapel looks on in silently horrified fascination as she dips her hand into her side pocket, pulls out her PADD, whacks Lieutenant Sulu sharply upside the head with it then studies his face closely.

"Nope. Nothin'." The shorter woman states, popping her head up to look around the Sick-bay. She chews her lip as she scans the room then grins as she spots what must be either her newest method or her next victim. "You, Crewman Dickerson! Come over here a minute."

Nurse Mapel looks over her shoulder to see one of the Med-techs look up from his station. His expression is mildly worried but he stands and walks over. She's never met him before but she's seen him running diagnostics on the equipment, he always looked like a nice guy. Nurse Mapel feels rather sorry for him.

"What can I do for you Nurse Schaltz?" He asks, running his hand over short cropped red hair in what is very likely a nervous gesture.

"Right, Dickerson. You've got some good meat on your bones," Dickerson nods in the face of Nurse Schaltz's sheer determination despite all evidence to the contrary. "I need you to pick up Lieutenant Sulu, here, and get him back over to Bio-bed 7. Think you can manage?"

"No, not really." Is his reply, after giving the unconscious lieutenant a long look. He seems pretty embarrassed by it and adds, "I could probably lift the Ensign, though."

"Okay. I suppose that will have to do. We'll just make a note on the readouts that they switched Bio-beds."

Nurse Mapel steps to one side to make room for Dickerson who smiles shyly at her. Nurse Schaltz gives him a nod to get on with it and he maneuvers his arms underneath the ensign's legs and shoulders. He shifts his hands a bit to get a better grip, rolls the limp body into his chest and lifts. He staggers a bit under the dead weight but regains his balance pretty quickly. It's at that moment that the ensign whines rather pitifully and opens his eyes.

"_Now_, they decide to wake up." Nurse Schaltz mutters under her breath. Lieutenant Sulu is stirring as well. He stares blurredly at them, snaps his head to the side as Ensign Chekov mutters something incomprehensible and narrows his eyes.

"The fuck are you doing?" He snaps at Dickerson.

"Lieutenant Sulu," Nurse Schaltz says, sounding mildly aggravated. "We need you and the Ensign in separate Bio-beds in order to obtain useful data. One of you needed to move and as you were both unconscious it was easier to pick up the Ensign than you. However, if you're feeling up to it, we would appreciate it if-"

This is as far as Nurse Schaltz gets. Ensign Chekov has been, up until this point, struggling weakly to get back down while trying to lace together something resembling an Intergalactic Standard sentence. Dickerson, looking anxious, has been glancing back and forth between the two nurses, looking for all the world as if he simply can't react to the situation without direction. Nurse Mapel watches with growing alarm as the ensign snaps something that sounds like a curse, tenses up and lets out a high keening wail as he bursts into tears.

"**Put him down you fucking moron**!" Lieutenant Sulu yells.

"Lieutenant! Calm yourself. Dickerson take the Ensign to-" Nurse Schaltz starts to say, waving a hand at Dickerson trying to direct him.

"No! He's exhausted so why can't you just-" Lieutenant Sulu protests and starts to lever himself up.

"Stay where you are!" Nurse Schaltz says more firmly this time.

"No! Put him down-" Lieutenant Sulu tries to lunge toward Dickerson but is tackled by Nurse Schaltz. "**Ow! Let go of me, bitch!**"

"**Stop resisting**." Nurse Schaltz yells while twisting one of the lieutenant's hands back towards his wrist in a restraining hold, her other hand pressed against his chest. Dickerson looks like he's going to collapse at any moment, like he would have before now if his entire body wasn't frozen rigid with mortification from holding a cursing, _crying_ officer in the middle of a Sick-bay fully staffed during Alpha shift. Nurses and Med-techs are darting up from their stations to see what the commotion is. Nurse Mapel is in the middle of this fiasco when all she wanted to do was sit quietly with her spreadsheets and keep her head down so she could finish this rotation and get back to the familiar solitude of Delta shift and now she's starting to hyperventilate.

"**SHUT UP! YOU TWO JUST SHUT UP! AND YOU, DROP HIM! DO IT NOW!**" Nurse Mapel shrieks hysterically.

There's a loud thump followed by a total and complete silence that is it's own special level of humiliation. Nurse Mapel brings her hands up to cover her mouth as she looks to Nurse Schaltz in utter horror. The other woman is staring at her with wide eyes. She still has her restraining grip on Lieutenant Sulu who doesn't appear to be struggling anymore.

"That. Didn't happen." Dickerson whispers horsely, moving his gaze to the ceiling, away from the Bio-bed where he's dropped the ensign in a heap.

"What in the hell is going on?" Nurse Mapel wants to fall through the floor, wants it to open up and swallow her, because the CMO has just walked into the circle of Bio-beds still wearing his surgery scrubs. He's arching an eyebrow at them in a way that is, frankly, incredibly intimidating.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry- I'll just-" She says, voice unnaturally high and starts to turn back to her station where she can hide in her time tables.

"No, stay here. The rest of you, get back to work. This is Sick-bay not a circus side-show." Dr. McCoy says with a pointed look around the room. As the rest of the Med-staff get back to their own duties he shifts his attention to Dickerson and the two nurses. "Schaltz, what in the blazes happened in here?"

"The officers were messing with the neuro-readouts by occupying the same Bio-bed. Nurse Mapel and I couldn't wake them so we called Crewman Dickerson over. He'd just picked the Ensign up-"

"_No, I didn't_."

"-When these two woke up. Lieutenant Sulu was uncooperative and was especially so when Ensign Chekov started crying-"

"_No, he didn't_."

Nurse Mapel rests a hand on Dickerson's shoulder and gently pushes him down onto Bio-bed 9.

"-Which is when the... outburst occurred."

The CMO doesn't respond right away. His eyes flicker from Nurse Schaltz to Nurse Mapel, who blushes crimson, to Dickerson, who has his eyes squeezed shut, to the two officers on the Bio-bed.

"They seem to be unconscious again."

"Yes, sir." Nurse Schaltz's confirmation is followed by another moment of contemplation by Dr. McCoy. Then he nods his head in Dickerson's direction.

"I want you to pick the ensign up again." Dr. McCoy runs a hand over his face when Dickerson whimpers in response. He calls over his shoulder. "Thompson, come over here for a second."

Thompson, a large man with dark eyes, looks up from where he's cataloging the supplies used in the Chief Engineer's emergency surgery. He straightens and walks over to stand beside the CMO. "What'cha need, Doc?"

"We're testing a hypothesis. Pick up Ensign Chekov, will you?" Dr. McCoy says, gesturing to the sleeping man on the Bio-bed.

"Sure thing." Thompson walks around Nurse Mapel with a nod and stands beside the bed. He bends down, scoops Ensign Chekov up and straightens. There's a brief moment where nothing happens and then the Helmsmen start to stir.

Lieutenant Sulu has just opened his eyes and Ensign Chekov has started to gasp in a choked sort of way when Dr. McCoy says, "Right, put him down."

Thompson lowers Chekov back down to the Bio-bed. His head hits the pillow just as he starts to groan pitifully but the sound is cut off half way through. Dickerson lets out a relieved little sob.

"You all right, Buzz?" Thompson asks, looking back.

"He's had a rough time of it." Nurse Mapel says. Nurse Schaltz sighs in exasperation.

"Okay, lets do that again." Dr. McCoy says.

Thompson bends over again, lifts the ensign just as easily as he did the first time. There's less of a delay before Chekov and Sulu react this time.

"Damn it, what's-" the Lieutenant says as he looks from Dr. McCoy to Ensign Chekov, who's squirming in Thompson's grip. One of the Ensign's arms falls to the side, hand coming to rest against Lieutenant Sulu's chest. They both go still.

For a few moments no one moves. They just look from Chekov, to Chekov's hand, to Sulu and back again. Then Dr. McCoy reaches out slowly, takes a bit of the ensign's sleeve between his thumb and forefinger as though it were in some way distasteful and lifts his arm a few inches into the air.

When the two men start to stir again he lowers it back down. They quiet immediately.

He repeats this several times.

"Okay, put him down." Dr. McCoy says when he's satisfied that the reaction is consistent. Thompson lowers the Ensign back down onto the Bio-bed. The only sound is the doctor grumbling something to himself as he wraps one arm around his chest and rests the other against it, fist held loosely against his lower lip.

They're all starring at the two helmsmen and Nurse Mapel is getting a little antsy. The CMO has a look on his face that she frankly can't read but she suspects that it promises only unpleasant things for the future. Dr. McCoy's comm chooses that moment to chirp at them.

"_Kirk to Sick-bay._"

"Yeah, Jim?" Dr. McCoy says, holding the comm up to his scowling face.

"_Sulu and Chekov haven't dropped by down there, have they? They're both supposed to be on the Helm today, only they're not here and we're getting nothing from their quarters._"

As the captain talks the CMO's expression has gone from what Nurse Mapel is willing to classify as 'E_laborate and Involved Cursing Imminent_' to what can only be described, though she almost can't believe it, as pure, unadulterated _glee_. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, looking for all the world like he's really savoring this moment.

"_Bones?_"

"I told you so." It's stated slowly, with careful enunciation. There's a pregnant pause before the captain replies.

"_... So, when I said _never_, what I meant was-_"

"Turn the God-damned ship around, Jim."

***

**End Part 3**


End file.
